Outside the cave where the Demons hid, Hiruma was jotting things down in a little notebook. His Nichirin Blade had pinned a Demon to the cliff wall.
The Demon's skin was dark purple, its body covered in bulging veins like twisted earthworms. Fear filled its eyes.
The Demon kept foaming at the mouth, blood streaming from all seven orifices and staining its face and body red, making it look even more vicious and terrifying.
"Kill... me... please...!"
The Demon struggled to force out the words. Its desire to die had reached its limit; Wisteria Poison was simply too torturous for Demons.
Hiruma glanced up at it before continuing to record the data. He had to complete Shinobu's assignment properly.
Volunteer Demon 001. Number of humans eaten: 3! Wisteria Poison onset time: five minutes. Dosage: one-fifth of a bottle! Administration method: oral ingestion (Mr. Demon was very cooperative. After my friendly persuasion, it wanted to atone for its sins, but I don't recommend Shinobu use this method.) Evaluation: The first generation of Wisteria Poison isn't toxic enough. Its onset is too slow, and the dosage needs to be concentrated and improved. Keep it up, Shinobu!
Putting away his notebook, Hiruma pulled out his Nichirin Blade and smiled. "Since you were so cooperative, I'll give you a quick death. Don't become a Demon in your next life!"
A flash of steel passed by, and the Demon turned to ash.
He raised his head and looked toward the cave before him. There seemed to be several nauseating presences inside.
"More test subjects. Wonderful!"
"Thank you for your contributions to the cause of Demon slaying!"
Hiruma walked into the cave with a smile. At that moment, the Horned Demon happened to be talking about him. This was the information the Demons had pieced together over the past few days.
It couldn't be helped. To the Demons of Mount Fujikasane, Hiruma and the other four were like five wolves let loose among sheep. Unexpectedly, they had made the remaining Demons remarkably united.
"I'm telling you, among those five human brats, that redhead is the most terrifying. He's a Demon! He always has a smile on his face while he attacks!"
"Like this?"
A voice suddenly cut into the Demons' conversation, and they did not even have time to react.
The Horned Demon nodded and answered, "Exactly like that—the Demon's smile!"
The next second, crimson-gold lightning illuminated the entire cave, instantly driving away the darkness.
The Horned Demon was beheaded by Thunderclap and Flash. Its head rolled aside, its once-ferocious face now filled with bewilderment and shock.
Hiruma turned to look at the remaining five Demons like a predator selecting its prey.
"He's alone! Who cares about some smiling Demon? Kill him!"
"Kill him!"
"This guy is way too arrogant!"
The five Demons had never experienced true despair. They tried to crush Hiruma with their numerical advantage.
The sun sank westward, and the fading glow of sunset gradually disappeared beyond the horizon. Darkness blanketed the land. At that moment, the last sliver of sunlight barely pierced the clouds and fell upon the entrance to the quiet cave.
Bathed in that faint light, Hiruma slowly emerged from the cave. He was covered in blood, clearly having held a very civilized exchange with the Demons.
He stepped out of the cave and took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air. He immediately felt refreshed.
"It's finally over..." Hiruma gazed at the last of the sun, stretched, and muttered, "I've used up all the Wisteria Poison, so the poison testing ends here. I'll go home and wait for Shinobu to praise me. Hehehe!"
As the final ray of sunlight vanished, Mount Fujikasane fell back into darkness.
The third day of the Final Selection had ended. Only one Demon still dared to hunt swordsmen outside: the Hand Demon.
Unfortunately, Murata had run into it.
"Ahhh!"
"What is this thing? Didn't they say the Demons in the Final Selection had only eaten two or three people?"
"This thing has definitely eaten dozens of people, right?"
Murata ran for his life, too terrified to look back. The past few days had clearly been safe. He had heard that those people were hunting Demons, so he thought things would get easier for him.
Who could have expected him to run into this thing?
In the blink of an eye, six arms as thick as washbasins blocked Murata's escape route. In his desperation, he could only fight with everything he had.
"Water Breathing, Fourth Form: Striking Tide!"
Blade winds like crashing waves slashed across the six dark green arms. Blood spurted instantly, yet the arms regenerated completely in no more than a breath.
Then, the Hand Demon slapped Murata away. It did not kill the human before it because it wanted to learn about Sakontzi Urokodaki's disciples.
It grabbed Murata and began to squeeze. Murata screamed in pain, feeling as though every bone in his body was about to break.
"Brat, have you seen anyone wearing a Fox Mask?"
As it questioned him, the Hand Demon spread open two arms as thick as bowls. A string was stretched between them, and eleven tattered, bloodstained Fox Masks hung from it.
Murata recognized them almost at once. Those Disaster-Relief Fox Masks were too distinctive. Just a day ago, the person who had saved him had worn one exactly like them.
Is this monster looking for Sabito and Giyu?
No, I absolutely can't let it find them. I can't betray them. They're geniuses who can bring honor to the Water Breathing lineage!
Murata made his decision in an instant. Enduring the agonizing pain, he shouted, "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I haven't seen them!"
"If you haven't seen them, then die!" the Hand Demon snarled coldly, tightening its grip until the sound of bones breaking could be heard.
"Ahhhhh!"
At the critical moment, an azure slash descended from the sky, severing the arm gripping Murata.
In his daze, he saw the youth with short peach-colored hair.
Murata fell from midair, and Giyu caught him.
As the Fox Mask entered its sight, the Hand Demon's eyes widened instantly. Its rage erupted like a volcano, consuming what little reason it had left.
Its body began to tremble uncontrollably. Its mountain-like frame swayed ceaselessly as though battered by a gale. It clenched its teeth so hard they ground together with crisp cracking sounds, as if it wanted to bite Sabito into pieces.
Every grind of its teeth was accompanied by surging rage, making the air around them heavy and oppressive.
At that moment, its heart held only endless hatred and killing intent. It wanted to tear Urokodaki's disciple before it into pieces.
"Urokodaki, Urokodaki! You're going to lose another disciple!"
"Hahahaha!"
The Hand Demon kept shouting for Master Urokodaki, utterly deranged.
Sabito stopped. He stared at the bizarre-looking Demon before him in disbelief.
It called him Urokodaki, didn't it?
Does it know Master?
"Hey!"
"Do you know Sakontzi Urokodaki?"
"I know him. Of course I know him. You're his disciple, aren't you?"
"I've eaten eleven little brats wearing Fox Masks!"
As it spoke, the Hand Demon displayed its trophies: a string of Fox Masks, eleven in total.
The moment Sabito saw the masks, he understood everything. All those senior brothers and sisters who had never returned had been eaten by it.
This thing was a Demon—and even more so, his enemy.
When enemies met, their eyes burned red!
Before you continue